


Birthday Blues

by thatcrazywriterley



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, Real Person - Fandom, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Forgotten Birthday, Gen, Sixteen candles - Freeform, Surprise Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazywriterley/pseuds/thatcrazywriterley
Summary: The Reader is having a pretty shitty birthday, and what hurts the most is that her best friend Jon seems to have forgotten all about it. Or has he?
Relationships: Best Friends Jon Moxley|Dean Ambrose/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Birthday Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tumblr (mox-made-me-do-it)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tumblr+%28mox-made-me-do-it%29).



( _Gif from wattpad)_

Normally, you didn’t mind it if people forgot important things. It hadn’t been so bad when your mother forgot your dance recital when you were twelve. Or that your brother had spent your entire sixteenth birthday riding roller coasters and eating funnel cake… while you sat home with a horrible flu. Or when your dad forgot your birthday entirely… like he did every year.

Normally, it didn’t bother you.

But you would admit, if only to yourself, that it hurt when your best friend Jon forgot your birthday. You knew, logically, that he was a busy man. He was a wrestling superstar, and he spent most of his time either competing or traveling to compete. Most of the time, he didn’t know what time zone he was in let alone what day it was.

Still… Jon was pretty good about remembering you. It was common for him to text you throughout the day. Maybe a call twice a week or so. Even when he was in another country, he always got in touch with you.

Feeling like you were repeating the horrible parts of _Sixteen Candles_ , you tied your hair up and forced a smile on your face. Your fingers trembled as you tied your work apron around your waist and stepped out into the rush of customers in the restaurant. It was going to be a long day.

There was nothing on your phone when you took your first break. You could barely choke down your bakery bagel before heading back to the register.

Second break was the same. Other than the fact that your battery life had dropped from 56 to 55, nothing had changed.

_God,_ you thought as you dragged yourself to your car after work, _I wish this day would just end. I just want it over._

***

You didn’t even feel better after a hot shower and a glass of wine. You toyed with your phone, wondering if you should just get over it and text him. Maybe hearing from you would remind him what day it was.

_Why bother?_ You thought painfully, fighting back tears. _If he didn’t remember on his own, what’s the point?_

Frustration won out, and you finally cried yourself to sleep, phone clutched in your fingers.

The sound of music woke you sometime around one in the morning. It was your ringtone—the one you’d set just for Jon. You looked down at your phone with blurry, dry eyes, seeing his goofily grinning face looking back.

You tapped it on and accepted the call.

“Hey,” you said quietly, trying to hide the scratch the tears had left in your voice.

“Hey, pea,” Jon said, his voice drowsy and sweet in your ear. He’d called you _pea_ for as long as you could remember. The origin of the nickname had faded a long time ago, but it had stuck. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” The words were terse, tinged with hurt. “Yours?”

“Busy. I’ve been on the road for six hours. I think,” he murmured. You could hear him settling into a hotel room. “I don’t even know what day it is.”

For a moment, it was quiet on the other end of the line. Then, there was a faint snap of cursing.

“Oh, pea,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, trying not to cry now that he’d admitted that he’d forgotten your birthday. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

“It’s fine, Jon. It’s just a day.”

“No,” he replied firmly. “It’s _your_ birthday, pea. I meant to call you, but I got so caught up on the road that I forgot to call. I’m sorry. But I sent you something. Has it got there yet?”

You thought back, trying to remember the last time you’d checked your mail. You didn’t think you’d had any packages, or anything at all, delivered. “Not that I know of.”

The rustling on the other end of the line stopped. Jon’s voice seemed to get louder. “Maybe you should check.”

“It’s one in the morning, Jon. I’m not going out to check my mail.” You smiled, even though you wanted to be mad at him. “Besides, it’s freezing outside.”

“C’mon, just a quick check. It should be there. I got an email saying it had been dropped off.” His voice was masked by a faint static. “If it got stolen, I swear…”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But if I can’t see it from my porch…”

You wound through the house to the front door. With practiced habit, you flicked on the light and pushed the curtain aside to look out. It was dark outside the circle of illumination. You were sure you weren’t going to be able to see anything.

The deadbolt whined as you turned it. The chain rattled as you pulled it back and let it fall against the wall.

It happened in an instant. One moment, you were looking out toward the mailbox. The next, Jon had stepped into view from his hiding place in the bushes. He was dressed in his favorite leather jacket, a beanie pulled down over his hair. His face was pink with the cold, but his eyes were bright blue and crinkling with a smile.

“Hey, pea,” he said, pulling his phone away from his ear and tucking it into his pocket. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

You shook your head, not quite believing that he was there. It had been so long since you’d seen him that you thought you might have forgotten what he looked like. But there he was, broad shouldered and radiating warmth. Grinning like he did when he knew he’d gotten something over on you.

He stepped forward and snatched you up into a hug. His bulk was warm, even though his jacket was cold against your face. You breathed in the scent of him… soap and cologne and something you couldn’t quite name but always associated with Jon. He held you tight against his chest, his cheek resting against your hair.

Jon closed his eyes, suddenly reminded of how you always smelled like fresh bread and pomegranates. He’d missed you more than he’d realized. It hit him like a train now that he was there in front of you.

“I got a flat outside of Philly,” he explained, pouting. “I’d have been here at eleven otherwise.”

“You didn’t have to come,” you murmured into his jacket.

“Of course I did,” Jon whispered against your hair. “It’s your birthday, pea. The most important day of the year.”

It didn’t matter that everyone else had forgotten or that you had spent most of the day in self-pity. Jon remembered and he was _here_ and that was all that mattered.


End file.
